


One Eye Open

by lespremir



Series: One Eye Open [1]
Category: Bleach, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lespremir/pseuds/lespremir
Summary: The night before his college graduation, Ichigo Kurosaki's path crosses with a ghoul in an encounter that will change his life forever.Thrust into life as a ghoul investigator, Ichigo struggles to balance nature and nurture as he uncovers conspiracies and family secrets, all while dealing with an undeniable attraction to a ghoul far too dangerous for his own good.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: One Eye Open [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878226
Comments: 17
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall welcome to my fic! im v excited to write this and have a lot planned out, so look forward to it
> 
> don't look too forward to it tho bc updates will take a while - by which i mean i'll update whenever i feel like
> 
> if you arent familiar with tokyo ghoul, the second work in this series is actually a glossary ill add to as the story progresses with some definitions/explanations that might bog down the story if i included them in the main text
> 
> hope you like it, pls feel free to leave comments/constructive crits etc or message me on the grimmichi discord if you have smth u think i could improve ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
> 
> i drew the opening art lol. check out my twitter @lespremir

Given that it was the day before his college graduation, you’d think Ichigo Kurosaki would be able to relax.

His class was relatively small, so he knew what most people’s plans were for their last afternoon as students: Ishida had finally worked up the courage to ask Inoue out to dinner, though Ichigo wasn’t sure she realized it was supposed to be a date; Renji was getting another tattoo in commemoration; Chad was having dinner at home, celebrating with his grandfather’s altar. Ichigo’s sister, Yuzu, had promised to prepare a special meal, one that she said would give him energy when he walked across the stage to receive his diploma tomorrow––he had been looking forward to it all day.

So _why_ , Ichigo wondered, was he still at school, getting his ass handed to him in front of a group of high school students?

“Remember, everyone, you can’t have any pity for your attacker. The second you worry about hurting them, the second _you_ end up being the one getting hurt.” Rukia wrenched his arm up further behind his head as if to emphasize her point. Ichigo couldn’t see from where her small foot was pressing his face down into the padded floor, but he could imagine the reverent looks she was probably getting from the students, who for the last hour had been hanging onto her every word. “Being women, you’re usually at a disadvantage in terms of size, and that means you have to take advantage of every opportunity you can to protect yourself, even if it means playing dirty. Can anyone remind me of the quickest way to take a man down?”

“Kick him in the balls!”

“And if he’s got you pulled in close?”

“Go for the eyes!” The universal enthusiasm Ichigo could hear in the voices of Rukia’s pupils made a shiver run up his spine.

“Exactly. You’ve learned well, all of you! Unfortunately, though, I think that’s about all we have time for today, ladies,” Rukia said, letting Ichigo’s limp arm drop next to his equally limp body. A groan resounded throughout the padded room. Winded and unwilling to run the risk of having one of the students try to test out their newfound skills one last time, Ichigo lay there while Rukia gave her closing spiel and said goodbye to the group. They had been sent from a local high school to take Rukia’s basic self-defense course, which the university had her lead once a month. Given that she was the instructor, Rukia said she needed Ichigo to help her demonstrate moves––Ichigo was sure it was just a convenient excuse for her to beat him up.

“Hey, Berry-Head, what’re you still doing down there?” 

Ichigo peeled his cheek off the mat to look up (not that far up) at Rukia, who loomed over him with a distinctly smug air. _These classes were really going to her head_. 

“Just wondering if you’re done taking all your shortie anger out on me, is all,” Ichigo replied, cracking his back as he stood up. Rukia scoffed at his response.

“Oh, man up, Ichigo.” Evidently, though, she wasn’t too offended by his jab, as she waited for him to grab his bag before shutting off the training room’s lights.

“Seriously though, you could stand to go a little easier on me. I’m not actually attacking you. I don’t think my left nut will ever recover from that last kick.”

“I think those girls will benefit from a little bit of realism,” Rukia responded, all prim and proper. She must have felt guilty, though, because it wasn’t long before she followed up with, “Tell you what, I’ll buy you dinner if you stop being such a whiny baby about it.” Inwardly, Ichigo cheered. There were few greater pleasures in life than free food.

They made their way across campus, cutting through one of the main quads, where there were still crews working to set up graduation installations despite the late hour. The paths were mostly dark, with only a few blue security poles lighting up the blocks, and even those started to peter out once Ichigo and Rukia walked beyond the bounds of the campus, where a network of alleys housed innumerable cheap, greasy restaurants––perfect for college students. They made their way through the streets, which had been long since cast into shadow when the sun set behind the buildings. A little less than half of the shops they passed had lights on and open doors; for all that this was a safe area, considering how close it was to CCG University, there were still lots of people who didn’t feel safe being out after dark. In all likelihood, the only shops still open were those whose owners lived in attached apartments, or those whose owners felt confident they could protect themselves on their way home.

Ichigo knew where they were heading, even though he and Rukia hadn’t really discussed it. The amount of times they’d visited Hikifune Ramen meant getting there was almost second nature––he could probably walk their usual route in his sleep (he’d very nearly done it on multiple occasions), and he could pick out what graffiti was new since the last time they’d visited. He even knew when garbage day was for most stores, and therefore when was the best time to avoid their alleyways. In this area, he felt just as comfortable as he did walking around the university campus, or the streets of his hometown, Karakura. That was why, when he heard a sound that seemed completely incongruous to the alley from which it came, he knew immediately that something was wrong.

“Did you hear that?” Ichigo said. Rukia looked up from her phone, where she was probably arguing with Renji about some inane topic. She seemed ready to reply ‘no’ when the sound came again, quiet enough that, had they been talking, it would have been impossible to hear.

At first, it was just a rustle––dismissable as leaves had there been any, but morphing into the shift of someone’s clothes when no one else would normally want to be out. There was a dragging sound, and a thump, and then a crack that echoed through the labyrinthine alleyways until it reached Ichigo and Rukia, who had frozen in place.

Ichigo glanced at Rukia, who met his eyes with a calculating gaze. She nodded towards the direction of the sound.

_Let’s go see what it is._

If anything, it was probably a stray cat digging through a garbage bin, or a pile of boxes that, after a long day of teetering unsteadily, had finally toppled over. But Ichigo was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of unease––the sense that, should they approach the sound, something would go horribly wrong. He tried to signal this as best he could to Rukia.

_Nah, let’s just take the long way ‘round and go get our ramen._

_Whiny baby, are you scared to see what it is?_ Evidently, his message was not received.

_I’m serious, Rukia, I don’t wanna go down there. Let’s just go eat._

_Do whatever you want._ Rukia rolled her eyes. _I’m going to check it out._ She started down the alley, in the direction from which the sound came. Ichigo huffed, but didn’t turn towards the long route to the ramen shop; instead, after a moment of hesitation, he followed her. Anxiously, he fingered the University-issue knife he kept at his belt. 

The Commission of Counter-Ghoul, or CCG, was the main government organization tasked with investigating and exterminating ghouls, humanity’s only predator and greatest threat. Every student at the CCG’s University received their knives upon completion of the required Intro to Counter-Ghoul Combat Techniques course. Ichigo hadn’t had much of a reason to use it, given that outside of the universal core curriculum all students were required to take, he’d chosen mostly electives focused on medicine and first aid. The conditions of his scholarship with the University stipulated he’d be required to work for the CCG for at least two years upon completion of his courses, but the same scholarship also allowed him to go to the CCG’s expedited medical school, which he was supposed to start attending in just a few weeks. That being said, the knives were a required part of the University’s uniform, as students in the past had been attacked by ghouls simply for attending the CCG’s school.

Up ahead, Rukia had stopped where the alley turned right, just able to spy around the corner. Ichigo stepped up behind her and carefully peered over her head.

Ichigo’s heart dropped to his stomach.

There was a body lying on the ground.

It was almost romantic, he thought faintly. The body lay in a pool of blood, dark and glistening in the faint, ambient city light. Nearly all of its features were cast into dark shadow, blending into the background as if it was one with its surroundings. Its limbs were twisted and broken, one arm with three joints and the other arm gone, but those impossible shapes transformed it from a body into an abstract sculpture, merely hinting at human form.

On instinct, Ichigo moved forward, but even without approaching he knew the person was dead.

“This looks like a ghoul attack,” Rukia said as Ichigo kneeled down next to the body. The very tips of his shoes sunk into the pool of blood. 

The person’s rib cage was torn open so violently it could have burst from within; most of its organs were gone except the stomach, which ghouls usually disfavored given its internal acidity. The body was still warm, too, so they must not have died very long ago. Did the sound of Ichigo and Rukia’s approach scare off the ghoul? Could they have prevented this had they just arrived a little sooner? If they were actual ghoul investigators, would they have been able to kill the monster that had done this? Troubled, Ichigo tore his eyes away from the gaping maw of the torso and looked instead to the victim’s face. Thankfully, it seemed the ghoul had left the person’s features alone. If it wasn’t for the streak of blood across their nose, they could have been sleeping.

“Rukia, can you report this?” Ichigo said, transfixed by the victim’s blank face.

“Already sent a text to nii-sama. He said someone should get here in a few minutes.”

Ichigo nodded absently, and was about to stand up again when something caught his attention. The person’s eyes were ever-so-slightly opened. Tugging back the sleeve of his uniform, he hesitantly reached out and, with one thumb lightly pressing into the skin of their eyelid, opened their eye. Opened their _kakugan_.

The red iris and black sclera were dead giveaways. This was a ghoul––only ghouls were able to manifest kakugan, which transformed normal human eyes into dark, threatening pits. Eyes darting back to the gruesome torso, he looked for what he hadn’t noticed before and–– _yes_. There, mostly covered by the rejected stomach, was the kakuhou for a rinkaku-type ghoul.

A _ghoul_ had been a target of a ghoul attack. That meant, given the injuries, there was a _ghoul cannibal_ somewhere near.

Disturbed, Ichigo was about to point this out to Rukia, but his train of thought was suddenly interrupted by her choked, “I-Ichigo!”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, head snapping up, but he immediately saw for himself––in the deep shadows of the alleyway sat a man, cradling the body’s missing arm. 

“Shit!” Ichigo hissed, jerking up to his feet. The man was well-enough camouflaged by the darkness that they hadn’t even noticed him, distracted as they were by the body of his victim. If the severed arm he was holding wasn’t indication enough, then his white panther half-mask, covering the top two-thirds of his face, and wild, bloody grin made it all too clear that _this_ was the ghoul cannibal.

“Don’t you two know it’s dangerous to wander around at night?” The man had a low, wolfish voice, one that was made for threatening. “Run along, now. You wouldn’t want to run into a predator.”

“You––you’re not gonna eat us?” Ichigo said, not really hearing his own words. He swallowed. A drop of sweat ran down his temple. The ghoul laughed, a crazy thing that ricocheted through the alleyways.

“Nah, ‘m not interested in your type.” He waved the severed arm flippantly, as if shooing a fly. “Not interested in weaklings. Get outta here.”

Ichigo felt a wave of dizzy relief. It didn’t even seem real - the ghoul was letting them go? But before he could start to back away, Rukia spoke up.

“We can’t do that.”

Ichigo turned to look at her in complete horror. Was she _serious_? Rukia’s face was pale, eyes wide, and her hand was trembling where it clenched her knife at her side. But when she spoke again, her voice was steady. “We can’t just walk away.”

The ghoul’s smirk widened.

“Oh? And why is that?”

Rukia stuck her chin up, as if it could help her convince herself to be brave.

“Rukia––” Ichigo started.

“We’re going to be ghoul investigators. We can’t just let a murderer like you roam free.” Rukia shifted her hand on her knife, tightening her grip until the trembling was no longer visible. She then raised the knife in front of her, bracing her arms as if readying to charge the ghoul. The ghoul tilted his head.

“‘s that right?”

Abruptly, faster than Ichigo could process, the ghoul darted up from where he was sitting and rushed toward them. Ichigo saw barely more than a blur of white and black and blue––though the bone-colored panther mask remained clear as day. He was suddenly in the jungle, a helpless squirrel at the mercy of a ruthless predator. Ichigo froze, wanting desperately to run away but too scared to force his legs to move, but then the ghoul wasn’t in front of him at all. To his side, there was a thump, and Rukia let out a gasping sound, like all the air had suddenly been punched out of her. Heart racing, Ichigo whirled around, scrambling at the knife he finally remembered was at his belt.

The ghoul was elbow-deep in Rukia’s abdomen.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Absently, Ichigo noted that the ghoul was tall, maybe even an inch or two taller than himself. The ghoul positively loomed over Rukia, who was so stunned at being impaled she still stood upright, knife out. The ghoul hadn’t even used his kagune, either––Ichigo’s eyes were drawn magnetically to Rukia’s back, from which protruded a blood-covered hand. Ichigo could feel his knees wobble at the sight. So it really was true, that a ghoul was significantly stronger than a human.

The ghoul suddenly turned to meet Ichigo’s eyes. Again, Ichigo froze, trapped under the weight of two activated kakugan and the ghoul’s feral, unhinged grin. His teeth looked sharp. The mask seemed almost like a part of his face, like it belonged there––as if the panther was his true form. Then, after a moment of complete silence, the ghoul withdrew his arm. 

Rukia collapsed with a heavy thud; Ichigo didn’t even spare the ghoul a thought before following her down, kneeling in a steadily-growing pool of her blood as he tore off his jacket and pressed it to the hole in Rukia’s abdomen. She drew in a sharp breath, face crumpling in pain, but thankfully didn’t actively fight back against the sudden pressure. Ichigo leaned even further into the wound, very distantly noting that even though the jacket was not yet soaked through, there were still globs of blood congealing under his fingernails. 

Sweat chilled the back of his neck; his legs grew numb from kneeling on the ground. Ichigo resolutely didn’t focus on Rukia’s pale complexion or her slow, weak breaths. He kept up the pressure on the wound, ignoring the way his arms were starting to want to shake with exhaustion. After an indeterminate amount of time, the bleeding seemed to slow, and Ichigo chanced a look up to the spot where the ghoul once loomed. But it seemed he was telling the truth about not being interested in them; he was long gone.

* * *

“It seems I owe you my thanks, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

Ichigo looked up, starting at the sudden interruption of the steady beeping of Rukia’s heart monitor. Rukia’s older brother, Special Class Byakuya Kuchiki, stood on the other side of the hospital bed. Even in a starkly-lit hospital room, he looked every bit the esteemed squad leader his reputation named him; he stood tall, uniform spotless and hair neatly brushed. His quinque, sitting on the chair just next to the door, gleamed as if regularly polished. Next to him, wearing a pair of too-short scrubs a staff member had given him to replace his blood-soaked uniform and slumping under the weight of the evening’s events hitting him at last, Ichigo felt utterly unworthy. But, Ichigo noticed, Byakuya’s brows pulled together when he looked down at Rukia. He, too, must be able to see just how frail she was, hooked up to multiple machines and drips and absolutely drowning in her hospital gown.

Byakuya took a moment to lay a hand gently on his sister’s forehead, careful not to disturb any of the wiring, and then spoke again.

“If it weren’t for your quick actions, the surgeon said she likely would have died.”

Ichigo shrugged numbly.

Even with his help, even with his years of medical training, Rukia had almost died. No one––no human––had more than a slight chance surviving suddenly gaining a new, gaping hole right through their middle. The wound’s excessive bleeding had slowed after Ichigo applied pressure, yes, but he honestly wasn’t sure if it was because he’d stopped the bleeding, or if there just hadn’t been much blood _left_ . If not for the prompt arrival of one of Byakuya’s subordinates, responding to Rukia’s report of a ghoul attack, she would have died. And Ichigo wouldn’t have been able to do a _thing_.

“What you did should be commended,” Byakuya continued. Ichigo considered this, considered the way Rukia’s pulse had fluttered softly under his fingers, considered the ambulance ride to the hospital and the tense hours he’d spent, numb with shock but unwilling to leave the waiting room, for Rukia’s surgery to be finished. Considered the new liver she’d received, and the veritable mass of stitches and staples the surgeons had likely used to keep her together. Considered the scars she’d be seeing for years to come.

“I don’t think so,” Ichigo found himself saying. His voice was hoarse. After giving his report twice and speaking briefly with the surgeon about staying by Rukia’s side despite being past visiting hours, he hadn’t said anything since. “I didn’t even do anything.”

Byakuya cocked his head.

“You saved her life.”

“I guess,” Ichigo responded.

Ichigo hadn’t done anything when they’d first seen the body of the victim––he’d been the one to blindly crouch down to examine them, barely even considering the gravity of the situation. When they’d realized the ghoul had never left the scene of the crime, Ichigo hadn’t done anything, either. Rukia had been the one to draw her knife, to take action even though she was terrified, while Ichigo was too scared to even run away. And if Ichigo’s efforts to staunch her bleeding had failed, if Rukia had died there in that alley, Ichigo wouldn’t have been able to do anything to get justice, because he’d _let the ghoul get away._ Ichigo had essentially allowed a murderer––and a _ghoul cannibal_ ––to get away because he wasn’t strong enough to protect himself or Rukia.

Instead of saying all that, though, he amended his earlier statement.

“I _couldn’t_ do anything.”

The hospital room was silent for a moment, silent except for the steady beeping of the pulse monitor. 

“You have been in the University’s accelerated pre-med track for the past four years, correct?” Byakuya asked. Ichigo nodded. “I have heard positive things about your dedication to helping others.”

“My dad’s a doctor,” Ichigo said, rubbing wearily at his eyes. “I guess I just grew up knowing what’s right.”

“And yet Rukia tells me you frequently help her with combat training exercises. Your professors have even remarked on your ability to do well in any subject, even the electives you take which have no relation to your chosen field of study.”

“I’m interested in a lot of things, I guess.” Ichigo raised one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. “Don’t see any point in doing them if I don’t do ‘em well.”

Evidently, Byakuya didn’t see any reason to continue to beat around the bush.

“Do not continue into medical school. Join my squad.”

Ichigo’s eyebrows shot up.

“You mean, become an investigator?” The corner of Byakuya’s mouth twitched, though with irritation or amusement, Ichigo wasn’t sure.

“That was implied, yes. Despite having long ago declared pre-med, you have continued to seek out a well-rounded education, something which is invaluable to ghoul investigators. Even if you have missed one or two of the recommended courses, I could instruct you as part of your training into the position.”

At the thought of being an investigator, Ichigo’s thoughts immediately flashed to the hordes of university students who’d been in the investigative track, for the most part just interested in killing ghouls and getting their own quinque. Ichigo had never meshed well with a crowd who held so little regard for life, even if it was ghoul life.

“Byakuya––I mean, Special Class, I don’t think it’s the right fit for me––”

“You said you couldn’t do anything.” Ichigo had never seen Byakuya interrupt anyone before, so he let himself be cut off in astonishment. “I don’t know what sorts of investigators you’ve come across, but my squad places honor and justice above all. We are, in a way, the first line of defense that is even more valuable than doctors or surgeons. We do our jobs not to kill ghouls, but to protect humans. We investigate, we learn, we save lives. You want to do something? If investigators do their job right, there won’t even be a need for doctors.” Byakuya met Ichigo’s gaze fiercely. “You could stop something like this from ever happening again.”

All his life, Ichigo had been taught to save. His dad worked constantly in their clinic, and when he was old enough Ichigo had started helping out, too. His dad had always taught him that life was precious, and it should be taken only in the most dire of circumstances. Investigators were ghoul-killers, there was no way around it––and even though ghouls were predators, often called monsters in human skin, it turned Ichigo’s stomach to think about taking one of their lives.

Rukia shifted in her bed, the heart monitor ticking up in speed and then back down. Ichigo stared at her wan face, tried to picture himself in her place, back in the alley, standing up to the ghoul who’d already taken at least one life. Could one really kill to protect? How many more lives would the ghoul take, human or not? Who else would be in Ichigo’s place, waiting endlessly beside a hospital bed? Who would be the unlucky ones, the ones without any medical training, whose friends would die before their eyes?

But not everyone had medical training––in fact, most people didn’t. People outside the CCG, the people whose lives barely intersected with ghouls at all, they wouldn’t have anyone to protect them if a ghoul hunted them.

“You could stop something like this from ever happening again,” Byakuya repeated. Ichigo slowly met his gaze; there was no expectation there, no desire to convince or persuade. Byakuya believed what he was saying, and he already knew how Ichigo was going to respond.

Normal people wouldn’t be able to defend themselves. They weren’t taught how to identify ghouls, how to treat wounds, weren’t given quinques to protect themselves.

They relied on investigators for that.

Ichigo held Byakuya’s gaze and nodded slowly.

“Then please take care of me, Squad Leader.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all and welcome to the new chap! this ones a lil boring but def necessary, but i did struggle a bit while writing--sometimes its hard to recognize if im going on too long or if the pacing is rlly fucked up. lemme kno if you think there's anything i could improve! also, please tell me if there are ever inconsistencies in how i refer to things (like if i sometimes dont capitalize things and sometimes do, if i change the name order, etc)--i want the writing to b e as consistent as possible
> 
> a bit of housekeeping: terms added to the glossary for this chapter are 'cochlea' 'investigator ranks' and 'ward'--dont forget to check there if theres terms you dont get or need a refresher. in tokyo ghoul canon, the head of the ccg is called smth different, but i literally cannot imagine yamamoto as anything but captain-commander, so im just using that title in here. also, i know in canon the quinque lab is separate from the ccg headquarters ,but to facilitate the story im just choosing to ignore that :)
> 
> i have certain things i want to happen in the story from here on out, but im struggling a little bit with how to get there, so the next chapter might take a bit to come out! if anyone wants to help me figure out the next steps in the story feel free to dm me on twit or on the grimmichi discord
> 
> my twit is @lespremir, come say hi

The decision to become an investigator turned Ichigo’s life on its head in a mere blink.

He didn’t attend graduation. In light of what had happened, it didn’t seem all that important. He spent the day at the hospital, alternating between filling out paperwork, answering various investigators’ questions about the attack, and fending off his family’s annoyingly persistent calls. Not too long after Byakuya had left the hospital, brushing a hand over Rukia’s hair one last time and telling Ichigo to come by the office in a couple days for a tour, he’d called Karin to let her know a very abridged version of what had happened. They weren’t allowed to visit him in the hospital, since it was so late at night and he wasn’t actually hurt, but he wasn’t willing to leave Rukia’s side while she was still asleep. He was grateful that he and his family were close, but when that closeness meant getting regular calls every half hour or so from both sisters _and_ his dad, it got to be nearly unbearable.

Rukia woke up late in the evening, since the doctors said when the anesthetic wore off, she apparently transitioned right to sleeping it off naturally. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows and blanketing the stark hospital room in warm, red light. That was one benefit of being part of the CCG, Ichigo supposed––the healthcare was great. Rukia had her own room, with two padded chairs and even a little pull-out loveseat. Ichigo had been occupying one of the chairs for the greater part of the day, moved up close to Rukia’s bed. He was drifting in and out of exhausted sleep when she shifted and coughed weakly.

“Ichigo?”

He sat up in a flash, vestiges of sleep being pushed aside by excitement at seeing her awake. Her eyes were open, though her gaze was still bleary.

“Hey, Rukia,” he said, grabbing her hand loosely. She was still drowning in the hospital gown, still looked oh-so-delicate, but in the light of the setting sun her skin looked warm. She didn’t look like she was at death’s doorstep, anymore. Rukia smiled weakly at him, really more a crinkling of the eyes than anything else; unbidden, he felt tears well up at the sight.

“Dumb baby, are you crying?” Rukia teased, voice raspy. Ichigo huffed and swiped at his eyes.

“In your dreams, pipsqueak,” he shot back, though it was weak. “I’m just glad to see you awake.”

Rukia’s smile dimmed a bit.

“From what I can tell, I’m lucky to be awake.”

Ichigo shook his head, weary from hearing that same phrase countless times throughout the day.

“I just plugged you up a bit, that’s all.” Rukia winced a bit at his words. Then she met his eyes.

“Did the ghoul get away?” She asked. Ichigo sighed and leaned back in his chair, though he didn’t let go of her hand.

“Yeah. From what the investigators were saying, he’s been seen a bunch of times recently, but he always manages to give investigators the slip.”

“Shit,” Rukia hissed, closing her eyes frustratedly. The heart rate monitor picked up pace a bit, likely in response to Rukia’s anger. “Can’t believe we let that fucker get away.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Ichigo said cautiously. Rukia shot him a venomous glare, primed to shoot him down, so he quickly continued. “He was a cannibal.”

That caught Rukia’s attention.

“You mean that person in the alley––”

“Yeah, it was a ghoul.” Once again, Ichigo cursed his actions yesterday––not being cautious, taking so long to tell Rukia about the victim. “I meant to tell you, but there wasn’t any time.”

“Shit,” Rukia repeated. Her expression was difficult to read, a muddled mix of anger and self-doubt and pain. The most prominent emotion, though, was fear––she, too, realized just how lucky they were to be alive. They sat in silence for a moment, the warmth of the sun finally fading away as it sunk below the trees outside the window.

“I’m not going to be able to be an investigator,” Rukia said abruptly. “Not for a few months, at least.”

“No, not until you’re healed,” Ichigo agreed. He hesitated a bit before continuing. “Your brother asked me to join his squad.” Rukia’s head snapped towards him, jostling the wiring that surrounded her on all sides. She affixed him with a piercing glare.

“Nii-sama?”

“Yeah, apparently stopping you from bleeding out made a good impression, or something.” Ichigo huffed, not really a laugh but not a sigh either, and ran his free hand through his hair. 

“And?”

Ichigo paused, looked up at the ceiling.

“And I accepted. No more med school for me, I guess.”

“That’s great, Ichigo. You always did pretty well in our combat classes,” Rukia said. Ichigo looked back down. She was resolutely avoiding his gaze, eyes tracing the twists of the IV tube stuck into her like it held the universe’s secrets. “You’re going to protect a lot of people.”

Rukia didn’t say anything else, but Ichigo could hear her next sentence.

_I just wish I could do it with you._

* * *

The CCG’s Main Office was located in the 1st ward, just a bit southwest of the University. It was a safe area; apparently, ghouls didn’t feel safe being so close to the headquarters of their main enemies. The 6th ward, where the University was located, was also supposed to be safe, but there was a noticeable difference between the two wards’ atmospheres. Where the 6th ward still had its fair share of dark alleys and run-down businesses, the 1st ward was nearly pristine, with swept sidewalks and well-lit streets. The roads all seemed to lead to the center of the ward, where the headquarters towered far above the rest of the city.

It was a tall building, with large expanses of glass that reflected the tranquil afternoon sky. Towards the top of the building, the CCG’s logo was displayed proudly: to humans, a bastion of hope; to ghouls, a harbinger of death.

The lobby of the building was surprisingly empty. While there were many couches and chairs scattered about, pleasantly accented by various potted plants and trees, the only other person Ichigo could see when he pushed his way through the front doors was the receptionist sitting at the front desk. Behind that was a wall of what looked like metal detectors which led to a bank of elevators. Ichigo made his way towards the desk.

“Uh, hi,” he said awkwardly. The receptionist didn’t look up, so he tried reading the nameplate sitting next to the computer. “Uh, Hanataro Yamada-san?”

At this, the receptionist startled, nearly knocking over the cup of coffee sitting on his desk. Ichigo met a pair of wide eyes, which quickly broke the gaze. The receptionist smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry about that,” he said, blushing faintly. “Um, how can I help you? Do you need to report an incident?”

“No,” Ichigo responded. “My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I was asked to come here by Byakuya Kuchiki. I think I’m getting a tour or something.”

“Special Class Kuchiki-sama?” The receptionist squeaked, giving Ichigo an astonished glance. “L-let me call him for you and see if he can come down.”

Hanataro punched a series of numbers into a complicated-looking intercom system; while he waited for a response, Ichigo’s gaze was drawn upwards. The floors of the tall building were built with a hole in the middle, so even from the lobby, Ichigo could see the far-away ceiling of the highest storey. Light was allowed to stream in freely through the expanses of windows, giving everything a light, airy feel. 

_This doesn’t look like a place where killers work_ , Ichigo thought. It was reassuring. For some reason he’d imagined the headquarters to look like an unwelcoming, hulking morgue, or maybe some sort of prison. For all intents and purposes, this was just an office building.

“Um, Kurosaki-san,” Hanataro said. Ichigo looked back down. The receptionist’s eyebrows were pulled together in a frown. “It seems like Special Class Kuchiki was called away to another ward for an urgent mission.”

“So, what did they say I should do?” Ichigo asked, sighing. Of course this would happen.

“Well, when I called his office, they said you’re still authorized to have a tour, but none of them are available,” the receptionist continued. He shrunk a little into his chair. “I’d give you the tour, but I can’t leave my desk, and to tell you the truth, I’m not really comfortable being around all those investigators…”

“Yamada-san, is something wrong?” A calming voice came from just past the wall of metal detectors. It was a man with auburn hair; he crossed to the desk and gave the receptionist a warm smile. Hanataro seemed to melt at the sight.

“Aizen-sama!” The receptionist said. “Just a little problem, sir. This young man was supposed to be receiving a tour from Special Class Kuchiki-sama, but he had to go to the 14th ward to take care of a––a situation.”

The other man tilted his head as if in thought, then turned towards Ichigo. He had a kind face. Ichigo noted that he wasn’t wearing the typical CCG uniform of a white trench coat, and he wasn’t carrying a quinque, but he seemed at ease in his environment. There was a badge hanging from his belt. Abruptly, Ichigo realized he was staring; he started and hastily bowed.

“Pleasure to meet you. My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I just graduated from the CCG’s University, and I’ll be starting with Special Class Byakuya’s squad soon.”

“Ichigo Kurosaki, hm?” Ichigo looked up to see the other man incline his head in a slight bow. “If you’re going to start as an investigator, we’ll likely be seeing each other rather frequently. My name is Sosuke Aizen.”

“Do you work here?” Ichigo couldn’t help but ask. He was curious. The other man’s lack of uniform was confusing.

Aizen laughed in response.

“Yes, I work here, but I’m not actually part of the CCG. I work under contract as a ghoul psychologist and behavioral specialist. I tend to split my time between here, where I advise on cases, and Cochlea, where I interrogate ghouls.”

Ichigo couldn’t suppress a wince at what he said last. Hanataro, listening in, seemed like he shared the sentiment. Cochlea––the ghoul prison. There were stories about that place, urban legends and the like, and none of them were pleasant.

“That’s––very interesting. Were you on your way there now?”

“As a matter of fact, I was, but really only because I didn’t have anything to do here.” At that, Aizen paused for a moment, then checked his watch. It gleamed beneath the sleeve of his dress shirt, likely more expensive than anything Ichigo had ever purchased; clearly, the CCG valued his work. “Tell you what, I haven’t anything of great importance to do for the rest of the day. How about I show you around headquarters? That way you haven’t wasted your day in coming out here.”

“Oh, Aizen-sama, would you?” Hanataro beamed at the suggestion and clapped his hands together once. Even pleased, he still looked slightly terrified. “That would solve this whole dilemma! Kurosaki-san, what do you think?” The receptionist turned to look at Ichigo, imploring.

“Uh, works for me, I guess,” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “But are you sure it’s not a burden?”

Aizen waved him off.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to do it.”

“Perfect! Then, Kurosaki-san, I’ll give you a visitor pass for the day, and you two are free to go in.” Ichigo took the pass, which was really just a sticker that said ‘Visitor’ on it, and stuck it to the front of his shirt. He then turned to follow Aizen, who had already started towards the wall of metal detectors behind Hanataro’s desk.

“We can start here, I suppose,” Aizen said, gesturing towards the metal detectors. “These are actually the start of our extensive anti-ghoul security systems––they were installed just a few years ago. They’re scanners that check the levels of Rc cells in everyone who passes through.” Aizen stepped through the scanners, which still looked like metal detectors to Ichigo. “As you know, ghouls have extremely elevated levels of Rc cells when compared to humans. When anything with over a certain amount of Rc cells passes through, the entire staff will be alerted, and automatic lockdown procedures will commence and last until the ghoul is exterminated.”

Something about the easy way Aizen talked about exterminating ghouls set Ichigo a little on edge––he spoke in the same tone one might use to discuss the weather, or the morning traffic. Although, Ichigo thought, passing through the scanners, when you worked around ghouls every day, you probably became desensitized to things like death.

Aizen proceeded to lead him through the vast building, which was like an office, gym, and bunker all rolled into one. On the ground level, there were large training rooms and exercise facilities; Ichigo looked into one and saw a group of young students, likely from one of the CCG’s grade-school academies, training with the same knives they had been issued from the University. Their ages seemed to range from early to late teens, but Ichigo thought he might have even been able to see a kid who looked no older than ten. The kid wielded the knife with deadly precision, leading the blade through stances and moves like they’d done it a thousand times before.

On the floor just above, there was an enormous medical bay. It was built around the open shaft that looked down into the lobby, which meant the space was well-lit with both natural and artificial light. From what Ichigo could see, it was as well-equipped as any major hospital, and far larger than his family’s clinic.

“This is our medical facility,” Aizen said, leading Ichigo off the elevator. “Everything here is specifically for the use of CCG employees. The truth is, most investigators who suffer field injuries end up being treated at other facilities, but here we offer employees everything from regular check-ups to treatment for training wounds to cutting-edge surgeries.” Aizen nodded at a passing nurse, who blushed and smiled at him. “We even have an in-house prosthetic specialist who designs and commissions custom prosthetics for investigators who lose limbs in the line of duty.”

“Which we try to avoid as much as possible, right, Aizen-san?” A soft, mildly threatening voice interrupted Aizen’s sermon, and a woman of indeterminable age approached. She, too, was smiling, but unlike the nurse who’d just passed by, this woman’s expression sent chills up Ichigo’s spine.

“Of course, Unohana-san,” Aizen said, inclining his head respectfully. “Kurosaki-san, this is Retsu Unohana, the head of our medical department. Unohana-san, I’m just giving Kurosaki-san a tour of the building. Apparently, he’s to be starting with Special Class Kuchiki next week.”

Unohana turned to Ichigo, who quickly bowed, perhaps a little lower than strictly necessary. Despite her small stature, something told Ichigo that this was someone not to be messed with.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Unohana said. “It’s always exciting to get new investigators, but I do hope I won’t be seeing much of you. We already have so many regulars as it is.” She sighed, clearly long-suffering.

“What do you mean by that?” Ichigo asked.

“Well, all of the services offered here are free to CCG employees,” Aizen said, gesturing expansively to the top-of-the-line facility. “Unfortunately, that means that some investigators are not quite as… prudent as they should be.”

“Some people just don’t realize that just because they _can_ make use of our hospital, that doesn’t mean they _should_.” Unohana shook her head ruefully. Ichigo’s heart beat a bit faster, sensing a threat. “They just truly don’t seem to appreciate all the hard work my staff puts into making sure they seem healthy.”

“Uh, you don’t need to worry about that with me, Unohana-san,” Ichigo said, clearing his throat. “I actually was actually pre-med at the University, and my dad runs his own clinic, so I know just how important medical personnel are. I’ll try to keep outta here as much as possible.”

With just those few words, Unohana’s entire persona transformed. Her gentle smile remained, but the dark, oppressive atmosphere that surrounded her––which Ichigo hadn’t noticed until it was gone––disappeared. Suddenly, he was ten pounds lighter, and the woman before him was unassuming and kind. She covered her mouth, hand practically drowning in the bizarrely-long sleeves of her lab coat, and laughed softly.

“Kuchiki-san always manages to find the good ones, doesn’t he? In my opinion, the CCG would benefit from having a few more investigators who properly respected good medical care,” Unohana said. “Well, in that case, you’re always welcome here, Kurosaki-san, injured or not. Now, I’ve still got multiple foolhardy investigators to see to this afternoon, so please excuse me.” With that, she nodded at both Ichigo and Aizen and turned to head back in the direction from which she came.

Suddenly, Ichigo remembered something. His father had owned their family clinic for most of Ichigo’s life, by that point, but before that Ichigo remembered he’d mentioned working for the CCG. In fact, that was the reason he’d decided to accept the scholarship at the CCG’s University in the first place; it was his dad’s alma mater, and he’d said the school’s pre-med track was pretty much incomparable. Ichigo didn’t know how old Unohana was (and didn’t care to ask––that was a risk he was unwilling to take), but if she was the department head, she must have been around for a while, right? She might have worked with his father during the time he was with the CCG.

“Uh, Unohana-san?” At Ichigo’s call, the woman turned around and raised her eyebrows questioningly. “I’m pretty sure my dad used to work here. Do you happen to remember anyone by the name of Isshin Kurosaki? I’m not sure when he stopped working here, but it probably would’ve been about 15 years ago, maybe longer. I mean, if you were even here, I guess.”

“I was here,” Unohana responded, “But it’s very kind of you to think I wasn’t.” Then, she tilted her head, her eyebrows knitted together in thought. “I can’t seem to remember anyone by that name, though. Are you sure he worked in this department?”

Ichigo frowned.

“Yes? I mean, no, I’m not sure. But he’s a doctor, though, so where else would he have worked?”

“Hmm… Well, nothing comes to mind at the moment,” Unohana said, “But I’ll keep trying to remember. With that, though, I really must bid you two good day.” The doctor’s white coat fluttered behind her as she walked away.

“That’s so weird,” Ichigo muttered. “I was pretty damn sure he used to work here…”

“Kurosaki-san?” Aizen said. Ichigo looked up to meet his gaze.

"Sorry, I’m just positive he would’ve worked in this department. He doesn’t really talk about it, though. Kinda weird.” Aizen’s eyes narrowed. There was something different about his gaze, but Ichigo couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“What did you say his name is, again?”

“Isshin Kurosaki.”

“Isshin…” Then, suddenly, Aizen’s shrewd expression cleared up, and he was back to his pleasant smile. “Well, we can keep asking as we continue the tour. I’m sure someone will remember him.”

Aizen led Ichigo back to the elevator, where they headed up into the higher reaches of the building. Up here, it looked much more like a traditional office to Ichigo. Sure, when he looked into various offices, there were images of ghoul suspects and various ghoul victims, and half the employees sat next to metal quinque cases, but there were still unending seas of grey cubicles, and the air itself smelled vaguely of stale coffee. There even seemed to be interns rushing about, who all looked to be in their early years at university, carrying large stacks of paper or group coffee trays. In the sea of white CCG coats, Ichigo could see lots of interesting characters: there was a hulk of a man with bells tied into his spiky hair; a woman with red hair whose uniform was dangerously low cut (how was that even allowed?); and what looked like a young boy with pure white hair. Aizen said there were too many floors to stop and visit each one individually, but even passing by each one left Ichigo lost under a barrage of new faces.

They didn’t take the elevator any higher than the second-highest floor, which was almost entirely conference rooms and executive offices. When Ichigo asked why, Aizen said, “The top floor is entirely for the Captain-Commander’s use. No one except certain Special Class investigators or board of directors members can go up there without his express permission; it’s said some of the Special Classes have their own offices up there.” 

Ichigo had never seen the Captain-Commander in person––apparently, he had been scheduled to show up at their graduation, though of course Ichigo hadn’t attended––but he had seen the man’s face frequently enough in books and on television to guess that Genryusai Yamamoto was not a man to be trifled with. He’d been the Captain-Commander of the CCG for nearly forty years, and had reached Special Class as an investigator before that. For all that he’d long gone bald, though, and his beard was long and grey, he showed no signs of wanting to retire; most people just assumed that he’d remain Captain-Commander until he died.

Up until that point, the tour had been relatively mundane. Ichigo was still confounded by Unohana’s inability to remember his father, and the fact that everyone he’d asked about Isshin Kurosaki had replied much like she had, but other than that, it had been much like Ichigo had expected. When Aizen swiped his badge on a scanner inside the elevator, though, and they started moving downwards without pressing any other buttons, Ichigo realized there were still surprises in store.

“This area of our building is strictly off-limits to anyone except CCG employees,” Aizen said, getting off the elevator when it finally slowed. From how long the ride had been, Ichigo guessed they were now underground, though he wasn’t sure how far down. Following swiftly behind Aizen, Ichigo stepped into a vast, sterile environment; there were no windows, and everything from the floor to the ceiling was covered in pristine white tiling. The space seemed to extend far beyond the boundaries of the building, but it was still cluttered with a wide range of equipment. There were innumerable tables, covered with quinque and weapons in various states of assembly; in a far corner, piles of what looked like metal rods were laid out in an orderly fashion; there were futuristic-looking, giant test tubes holding what appeared to be severed kagune; and, in the distance, Ichigo could even see some trucks parked next to a ramp that led to a bay of garage doors. Evidently, this underground area extended so far they were able to disguise a second, street-level entrance as a different building. 

“This is the Quinque Development Lab,” Aizen said. He nodded at one of the technicians who scampered by, clearly in the middle of something, and then led Ichigo along a row of tables. “Here, scientists harvest recent kagune acquisitions and design and manufacture them into human-operable quinques. Furthermore, certain researchers are allowed to pursue their own projects with the approval of the CCG.” Aizen stopped next to a table upon which was what looked like a half-assembled bikaku quinque. Ichigo averted his gaze from the dull mass of flesh, partially contained by a silver briefcase, and tried to quell his queasiness. For all that he’d seen countless injuries in his classes and at his family’s clinic, seeing what was essentially a child-sized length of exposed, severed muscle was hard to stomach.

“You’ll be starting as a Rank 2 investigator, I presume, since you came from the University. That means you’ll probably be getting fitted for a quinque soon enough.”

“I suppose,” Ichigo said. He couldn’t imagine using a weapon made from the body parts of another being. Maybe the best way to go about it, he thought, was to treat it like an organ transplant: to use something harvested from someone else to––hopefully––save another person’s life.

“Kurosaki-san, if it isn’t overstepping to say…” Aizen said, seemingly hesitant. Ichigo turned to meet his gaze, which had become serious. “Once you become part of the CCG, I would advise you to remain cautious around some of the scientists here.”

“What do you mean?” Ichigo asked. “Aren’t they all my coworkers?”

“Well, yes, they are technically that. But some of the scientists here… ” Aizen bent a little closer, and his voice grew more quiet. “Sometimes I think they study ghouls so much they forget what it’s like to be fully human. Just… keep that in mind.”

“Aizen-san! Spreading nasty rumors again?” A voice suddenly called from mere feet away. Ichigo jumped and whirled around to see a lab coat-wearing man with sandy hair standing just at the other end of the table. He was smiling pleasantly, but his green-striped hat cast his eyes into shadow, giving him a decidedly shifty appearance. When had he gotten there? Ichigo hadn’t heard anyone approach. 

“Of course not, Urahara-san, just offering some advice,” Aizen said. “And I don’t recall having done it before, so ‘again’ might be a bit of an overstatement.”

“Well, if that’s what you say, Aizen-san, I guess I’ll believe you,” the other man said. He then turned to Ichigo. He smiled conspiratorially, as if making Ichigo privy to some secret. What that secret was, Ichigo had no idea. “And who might you be? I haven’t seen you in these parts before. Not that I can remember, at least.”

“Uh, no, I haven’t been down here before,” Ichigo said, and bowed. “I’m new. I’m starting with Byakuya soon––my name’s Ichigo Kurosaki.”

“Kurosaki, you say?” The other man said, a strange note bleeding into his voice. Ichigo looked up to meet his gaze; his face, for a moment, was overcome by an unidentifiable mix of emotions. Then, the other man suddenly snapped open a fan which had appeared from who-knows-where, briefly breaking their eye contact. By the time the fan had drifted just below his chin, fluttering ineffectively, the other man’s expression was schooled back into the bland smile that seemed to be its default. “Well, I suppose we always need new recruits. Investigators always seem to get injured left and right; how are we supposed to counter ghouls if they’re all in the hospital or dead? The quinque can’t exactly operate themselves! I should know; I design them.”

Ichigo’s eyebrows shot up.

“You?” he asked, unable to hide the note of disbelief in his voice. The other man had a distinctly shady air about him that wasn’t at all lessened by his lab coat. “You’re the one who makes the quinque?”

“The interesting ones, at least,” the other man said, walking around the table. He was wearing geta––wasn’t that a safety hazard? The man stopped in front of Ichigo and snapped his fan closed, tapping it against his own smiling lips. “Kisuke Urahara, ever at your service.”

“Urahara-san heads the Quinque Lab, but I’m sure you’ll come to realize that he is usually more occupied with his own projects than creating quinque,” Aizen said from behind Ichigo. Urahara glanced over Ichigo’s shoulder towards the other man; his eyes tightened for a moment, just barely visible beneath the shadow cast by the low brim of his hat. His fan snapped open again.

“Why, Aizen-san, I’m not quite sure what you mean by that!” His tone was as pleasant as could be. “All the research we do here is CCG-sanctioned––after all, our staff are good for more than just making quinque!”

“I was not trying to imply anything untoward, Urahara-san. I am merely trying to give Kurosaki-san as thorough a tour as possible.” A large hand settled on Ichigo’s shoulder; Aizen must have stepped up behind Ichigo’s back. “As I’m sure you well know, such young, promising investigators need to have someone they can rely on for truth in what is often a convoluted and confusing business.”

“And you always do seem to be that person, Aizen-san,” Urahara said. His eyes drifted back to meet Ichigo’s, but over the edge of his fan his stormy gaze was unreadable. “Your dedication to supervising the young, malleable minds of our organization is constantly astonishing.” Urahara stood there a moment more, just holding Ichigo’s gaze. Then he stepped back. “Unfortunately, such young, malleable minds do not yet have the necessary clearance for proceeding further on this tour, so I must ask the both of you to leave our labs at once. Once the young Kurosaki-san is officially a member of the CCG, I shall welcome him back into my domain with open arms, but for now our meeting must be cut short.”

“I suppose it must,” Aizen said. He didn’t sound particularly upset at not being able to continue the tour. “A pleasure, as always, Urahara-san.”

The other man responded by tilting his hat even lower over his eyes and clacking away on his wooden sandals.

Aizen steered Ichigo back towards the elevator from which they came, hand never once leaving Ichigo’s shoulder.

“Is Urahara one of the people you were talking about earlier?” Ichigo asked lowly.

“Was I that obvious?” Aizen said, self-deprecating. He reached around Ichigo to push the elevator’s ‘up’ button. “I wanted you to be able to form your own opinions without being influenced by my own. But yes, I suppose he is. He and I don’t tend to see eye-to-eye regarding the duties of our roles with the organization.”

“What do you mean?”

“In my opinion, Urahara oft forgets the true purpose of the Quinque Lab, and of the CCG as a whole––to exterminate ghouls. He uses his position to experiment wildly, often taxing CCG resources without providing any advancements in our fight against ghouls,” Aizen said. “I cannot approve of someone who makes such light of their position, which is one so many people rely upon for creating weapons to ensure their safety on the battlefield.”

Ichigo considered what he said and nodded slowly––Urahara _did_ seem to have a flippant personality. He didn’t know how that translated into the workplace, but he made a note to himself to tread cautiously around the scientist. The elevator _dinged_ pleasantly, signalling the arrival of the car, and both Ichigo and Aizen got on, to head back up to the lobby; it wasn’t until later that Ichigo realized Aizen hadn’t explained why Urahara disagreed with him.


End file.
